


White Lies

by ensembleklavier (orphan_account)



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7216297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ensembleklavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope made Hinata think of raspy laughter echoing across trial rooms, of pleasant smiles being used to cover swirling madness.  He could hear it now: the endless stream of compliments, the sky-high expectations he could never live up to.</p><p>“I’m absolutely positive a bright, beautiful hope is sleeping within you, Hinata-kun,” he would say, eyes large and gleaming, not unlike solitary lampposts glowing in the dead of night.<br/>Hinata would normally respond to this with an “uh” and perhaps even a “yeah, okay” if he was feeling particularly conversational. </p><p>…If he was being honest, despite his irritation and confusion, he would always feel a little spark of something in his chest when Komaeda would go on these rants. It was a feeling akin to anxiety and warmth mixed together…sometimes, he even liked it.<br/>However, Hinata could hear another, different sentence echoing in his ears soon after, sharp laughter punctuating it—<br/>“If you’re thinking you could become hope, just stop it. I mean, c’mon…even I have a talent, y’know? If I’m worthless trash, what exactly do you think that makes you…Hinata-kun?” he would say, eyes dark and shining, threatening to swallow him whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a little two-shot thing set after the survivors have woken up post sdr2--odds are high that the upcoming anime will disprove some of the little details in my fic, so just take it as an AU!
> 
> Thanks to my lovely friend Yamimori (who also writes great komahina fics!) for helping me rediscover my love for writing and beta-reading this about ten times

Hinata knew they were awake, but he hadn’t gone to see any of them.

He knew he _should,_ of course, but he figured, just this once, he could be selfish.

He wasn’t to be blamed for anything that had happened, so if he was to be blunt about it, he didn’t owe them anything.

None of them would be itching to see him, anyways. There wasn’t anything he could do for them.

 It wasn’t like his presence would be missed…by anyone in particular…

“…Right?” Hinata mumbled to himself, nudging a shoe across the floor of his nearly empty cottage.

            After all, he had received a second blessing in the form of not only waking up, but also forgetting a considerable amount of what had happened during his time in Ultimate Despair. The existence of the person who had done all of that in his body was so separate from his own that his brain seemed to have blocked a lot of it out. The last thing he wanted was to trigger a memory—or even worse, have one of his still-despairing friends remind him of one.

Hinata would, however, have little glimpses of horror, often in his dreams—a classroom filled with dead bodies; blood and gore splattering the walls. He’d feel nothing, he’d feel his own extreme disinterest— _boredom—_ while staring at the corpses. This would go on for a seemingly indefinite amount of time until he’d wake up, drenched in sweat, terror coursing through his veins.

Hinata tried very hard to run away from the fact that he must have done that.  He didn’t want to acknowledge that was a real memory, one that he could run away from all he wanted and never completely escape it.

…That didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though. He was alive, and that meant he could atone. That meant it was possible that he could pay back the people who had put their livelihood on the line to save them, those who had done nothing but spread despair and pain. He could take whatever time he had left and use it to spread hope—

Hinata instantly grimaced and kicked his shoe, watching it skitter across the floor.

That word had been absolutely ruined for him, twisted into something unpalatable and disgusting. Hope made him think of raspy laughter echoing across trial rooms, of pleasant smiles being used to cover swirling madness.  He could hear it now: the endless stream of compliments, the sky-high expectations he could never live up to.

 “I’m absolutely positive a bright, beautiful hope is sleeping within you, Hinata-kun,” he would say, eyes large and gleaming, not unlike solitary lampposts glowing in the dead of night.

Hinata would normally respond to this with an “uh” and perhaps even a “yeah, okay” if he was feeling particularly conversational.

…If he was being honest, despite his irritation and confusion, he would always feel a little spark of _something_ in his chest when Komaeda would go on these rants. It was a feeling akin to anxiety and warmth mixed together…sometimes, he even liked it.

However, Hinata could hear another, different sentence echoing in his ears soon after, sharp laughter punctuating it—

“If you’re thinking you could become hope, just stop it. I mean, c’mon…even I have a talent, y’know? If I’m worthless trash, what exactly do you think that makes you…Hinata-kun?” he would say, eyes dark and shining, threatening to swallow him whole.

Hinata flopped back onto his bed a bit too hard, his head smacking against the mattress. “Ow…” he mumbled, regretting letting his thoughts run away with him.

All of the original survivors had someone they wanted to help—Kuyuzuru had made Pekoyama a priority, Sonia hadn’t left Gundam’s side—but as far as he knew, nobody had gone to see Komaeda, other than to give him food through a slot in the door. At the very least, he was definitely being confined to his room and not given any information about where he was or what was happening.

Hinata almost felt sorry for him.

... _Almost._

But then again, Hinata hadn’t gone to see anyone at all himself.

Naegi’s branch of the Future Foundation had given them a few extra hands to help with the day-to-day operations of running an island—guards, a couple of nurses, some laborers—although Hinata often suspected they were sent there to watch them, ready to make a move if anyone showed signs of losing it. However, this did mean that, technically, nobody HAD to go see any the survivors if they didn’t want as long as someone told the Future Foundation employees what to do the day prior.

Sonia had taken on the matter of scheduling, and so far Hinata hadn’t been given any responsibilities.

_I’m not responsible for him—for them._

He wondered how much Komaeda remembered. It seemed to vary from person to person how much they knew—Kuyuzuru had told him Pekoyama seemed to remember very little, wandering around in a haze of fractured memories. She seemed to remember their general situation during the killing game, but didn’t understand how they’d gotten out of it. She didn’t remember much of Hope’s Peak, either—what she did remember revolved around her admission, not her actual time at the school. Hinata wondered if this was her mind’s way of protecting her, of suppressing the reality of what she’d become. Regardless, Kuyuzuru had said she was remembering more and more every day, and it was likely a matter of time before she knew as much as he did.  

Was it possible Komaeda was the same way? After all, Hinata hadn’t heard about him making any moves, he hadn’t even attempted to speak to anyone through the door, and that wasn’t like him at all.

He knew he was spending way too much time thinking about this; he needed to cut off this train of thought. He was kind of hungry, maybe getting a snack from the kitchen or something would help. Since it was past midnight, nobody else should be up, and he could go get some air in peace.

Hinata dragged himself up from the bed, forcing his feet to move across the wooden floor.

He was barely halfway across the room when he heard a sharp clattering noise, immediately cutting off any thoughts he may have been having—Hinata froze in place and looked around, seeing nothing suspicious.

It must have been a knock, but that was exactly what he didn’t want—he was still a bit shaken from dwelling on things he shouldn’t, and he didn’t want to be expected to make conversation.

“Can I just ignore it…?” he thought, thinking his options over.

The noise resumed, loud and reverberating. This time whoever was making it didn’t bother to stop, just kept pounding against the door.

The only person who would be this annoying was Souda, perhaps literally the last person Hinata wanted to speak to right now. He considered just waiting until the knocker’s persistence gave out, but if it really was Souda, this could go on for hours. He’d probably break a window if he had to.

With a sigh, Hinata took a few steps towards the door, glaring at it like he could force Souda to disappear if he stared hard enough.

The idiot had started twisting the doorknob. If he was going to break in, the Ultimate Mechanic should have enough sense about him to try picking the lock. He really wished Souda would just go bother someone else--

The knocking immediately ceased, leaving a ringing silence.

Hinata stood there, confused.

Had he really just willed Souda out of existence?

…No, obviously not, so was this just a prank…? Was he really going to pick the lock?

There was a loud click, and the doorknob turned.

“Somebody is actually fucking breaking in,” Hinata whispered, and looked around immediately for something he could use to defend himself in case it wasn’t Souda, maybe even if it WAS Souda. He couldn’t find anything—he’d never really decorated his cottage so it was nearly empty.

Just as panic was threatening to overwhelm him, the doorknob stopped turning.

Hinata stared.

It started turning again, but only got about half way before it stopped. He could hear shuffling outside.

This was even more annoying than Souda just breaking in.

“Just…god….just open it already!” Hinata yelled, still glancing around in vain for something he could use to protect himself.

There was no movement.

Something about Souda having the audacity to not only come to his cottage after midnight, but to pick the lock and attempt to break in, and THEN not even actually have the guts to follow through with it lit an extreme feeling of irritation in Hinata’s stomach.

 “Break the lock or go away! Pick one already,” he yelled angrily.

There was a few beats of silence, and then--

            “--Ah, I’m not trying to break the lock to your cottage, Hinata-kun! Don’t worry! I have a key!”

_Ohmyfuckinggodyou’vegottobefuckingkiddingme—_

Hinata froze in place, not moving apart from an uncontrollable tremor in his hands.

This scenario hadn’t even entered his mind as a possibility, so the fact that Komaeda Nagito was standing not ten feet from him, attempting to commit a felon with a somehow acquired key to his cottage was beyond terrifying.

 He didn’t know what to do, what the appropriate reaction was. That is, if there even was an appropriate reaction—obviously, the sane thing to do would to be attempting to leave through his window and go tell the others—but that meant allowing Komaeda to run amok with a key to his room. If he’d gotten out of his own cottage, he’d probably stolen a set of keys, and giving Komaeda unrestricted access to the entire island probably wasn’t something he’d be forgiven for.

Hinata also had heard something in Komaeda’s tone of voice that he hadn’t heard in a long time: he heard softness and warmth and an underlying near-panicky tone that was always present when Komaeda spoke to him…before he learned the truth about his lack of talent, anyway.

Could it be that he really had forgotten? Hinata was sure more memories would probably come back to them as time went on, but it was entirely possible that Komaeda had forgotten their past like some of the others, at least for now.

_Is he faking? Is this some sort of scheme so he can kill me? Maybe he wants to finish what he started in the killing game._

Hinata nearly choked out a laugh—if Komaeda’s ultimate plan to end his life hinged on Hinata trusting him enough to invite him in, he couldn’t be more wrong.

He’d stolen a key to his cabin, for god’s sake. Did he think Hinata would be stupid enough to forget all the things Komaeda had said to him before he tried to get them all killed?

A voice interrupted his thoughts; soft and rasping.

“…I don’t want to be rude, but I did go through a lot of trouble to get here, so I’d really appreciate it if you let me know whether or not I can come in, because I have a lot of questions. Also, it’s very cold, so if you could let me know in the next hour or so if I can come in, that would make me very happy, Hinata-kun, because if I can’t come in, which I’d completely understand if you don’t trust me enough, I’d like to go back to my own room, so I can at the very least nurse my impending frostbite,” Komaeda said, speaking like a rapid fire machine gun. “I seem to have already lost a hand, so I would really rather not risk losing any more body parts.”

_Ah…the hand._

One of the first things the survivors had decided to do after they woke up was to revert their appearances as close to what they had been before as possible. This meant removing any body parts they’d taken from Junko’s body—the loss would serve as a reminder of what they’d done, to remind them that they’d all changed and could never go back.

 Some of the body parts were putrid and decaying after spending such a long time in stasis—but strangely enough; Komaeda’s hand seemed to have melded to his wrist and was in perfect condition.

It was immovable, of course. It wasn’t really his hand, so everyone decided it would be best to cut it off regardless. It was assumed the survivors wouldn’t be in a coherent enough mental state to make this decision themselves, and Souda had made everyone robotic, semi-moveable parts to put in their place.

Hinata has silently thought this decision had been made rather flippantly, and was very grateful his former self seemed to have enough to sense to keep everything attached the way it was supposed to be.

Komaeda, however, seemed completely unconcerned by this development—he said the phrase “I seem to have already lost a hand” with an air of good-natured curiosity.

 Hinata wondered how someone could be so utterly unconcerned with their own wellbeing.

He had also mentioned “frostbite”—it was cold outside, but frostbite was a gross exaggeration unless you’d been outside with no warm clothing for a long amount of time.

Trying to keep his voice steady, Hinata asked: “…how long have you been out there?”

“Oh, I’ve been out here for about two hours!” came Komaeda’s voice through the door, cheerful and unconcerned.

That was obviously a blatant lie— _someone_ would have seen him, even if it was late. Hinata would have heard _something_ ; there was no way he could’ve just stood there, silent and unseen.

And even if it WAS true, why would Komaeda do that?

If Hinata’s assumption was correct and he had forgotten what happened before the killing game, then wouldn’t he be desperate for information? He could easily picture Komaeda breaking into his cottage—after all; he’d done it before to get evidence for the second trial.

Why would he assume Hinata would tell him anything at all? Why would he risk it?

There was nothing tangible to prevent Hinata from just hauling Komaeda out of his cottage and taking him to, say, Kuyuzuru.

He knew the rest of the group would probably take any reason they could get to isolate Komaeda permanently. It would only take one slip up to convince everyone that he was always going to be dangerous, that everyone’s lives were at risk due to his continued existence.

 Hinata could even see them taking it farther than simple isolation—Komaeda had tried to kill all of them, after all, and very nearly succeeded.

All of this was true…and yet he still found himself hesitating.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, Hinata had felt the sharp feeling in his chest again amongst all the fear and shock when he realized it was Komaeda outside his door.

There was something in the way he spoke that fulfilled some kind of deep rooted need in Hinata’s heart, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, the nearly reverent tones that implied expectations and trust and _care_.

Komaeda talked to everyone that way, but no one had really talked to Hinata like that before—like he was worth his weight in gold.

“…What…exactly do you think is happening right now?” Hinata called through the door, walking closer to it as he spoke.

He could hear a loud, audible sigh.

 “To be honest, I’m not really sure. Somebody locked me in my cottage—which I completely understood, my presence must have been so much of a burden that I had to be knocked out and locked away, completely understandable—but eventually I started to wonder if I was the only one left in the killing game, if my luck had somehow caused me to win. That would’ve been completely and utterly unacceptable! That would be the worst bad luck I have ever experienced, by far. Obviously, I had to know if I was responsible for killing off this world’s hope, so I…ah…acquired a key and starting poking around,” Komaeda said, taking a deep breath to continue.

Hinata cut him off: “No, I mean—why are you ‘poking around’ HERE?”

The reply was immediate--“I wanted to make sure you were safe first, Hinata-kun!”

He felt his heart jump in his chest; hated himself for it.

_He did come here first, after all._

Hinata put his hand on the doorknob.

“If I let you in, what exactly do you want?” he said, speaking at a normal volume now.

“Ah…like I said earlier, I do have some questions. I’m still very cold as well, so if you had some sort of blanket or something I could use, I would be forever grateful, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said. “I would advise burning it later, but that’s up to you.”

At this close of a distance, Hinata could hear a slight, but distinct tremor in his voice.

Had he really been out there, in the cold, for hours? That could definitely be dangerous.

 He didn’t want to be responsible for killing Komaeda.

If he didn’t let him in, he’d probably stay out there regardless and freeze.

If he did let him in, he’d be saving a life.

…Right?

Hinata turned the knob and opened the door.

Komaeda was, as promised, standing there. He was shivering, small tremors wracking his body, and he wasn’t wearing anything other than a ripped, thin striped t-shirt and black jeans. The tip of his nose was pink.

He smiled when he saw Hinata, a bit of color returning to his cheeks. “Are you really going to let me in, Hinata-kun?”

“I guess I am,” Hinata said, staring at his shoes.

Komaeda cocked his head to the side. “…Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were about to break in! You stood there for two hours,” Hinata exclaimed incredulously. “You have no right to ask me if this is a _good idea.”_

Komaeda narrowed his eyes. “I just don’t think it’s very smart to let someone in your cottage without searching them first. I could have a knife in my shoe or a gun in my back pocket! You’d have no idea!” he exclaimed.

Strangely enough, this didn’t really make Hinata feel any twinges of hesitation or fear.

He didn’t exactly welcome death, but after everything that had happened— _everything he’d done—_ Komaeda slitting his throat in his sleep or something seemed almost merciful.

Plus, there was no way to know for sure what his intentions were—that was the gamble had to take every time he interacted with Komaeda. He never really seemed to show of all his cards, and it wasn’t like Hinata was about to strip search him.

He made the mistake of looking up then—looked straight into soft, pale green eyes that widened as Komaeda’s gaze met his.

“You can strip search me if you want, Hinata-kun,” he said. “I trust you!”

…He really liked to think Komaeda couldn’t read his mind.

“I’m not gonna strip search you,” he mumbled, moving away from the doorframe. “Just come in already.”

“Just so you know, I really don’t have any weapons, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said as he stepped into the room. “I don’t have anything on me at all.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Hinata said tiredly.

Some of the survivors had chosen to decorate their cottages in the same way they had their virtual ones—Sonia had worked on re-creating the cottages of the comatose in order to make the transition as easy as possible. Hinata supposed that was the same for him—he hadn’t decorated his cottage in the virtual world, nor had he this one.

He regretted it now, though—there were only two places for them to sit--a small couch not meant for two people, and his bed.

He hurried over to the couch before Komaeda could make any assumptions about where they’d be sitting, but once he got there, Hinata realized his choice had probably been a mistake. There was even less room on the couch than he had thought—he wasn’t even sure if it deserved to be called a couch at all.

Komaeda, pretending not to notice, came and sat down by him. His left side was pressed directly against Hinata’s right; he didn’t even think he could turn his head without bumping against him. He kept his gaze cast downward, trying to ignore both Komaeda and the prickling warmth he felt rising in his face.

“You probably want to know what happened to your hand, right?” mumbled Hinata, staring intently at the floorboards.

“Well, eventually, sure! I guess that information would be useful. First, though, I’d be a lot more interested in who, other than us, is still alive,” Komaeda said.

Hinata could see in his peripheral vision that Komaeda was sitting on the very edge of the couch; obviously uncomfortable, but was just far enough away that he could look at him without knocking their heads together.

... _Idiot. If you’re going to be this awkward, just sit on the floor._

Aside from Komaeda staring at him with the same amount of intensity that Hinata was using to stare at the floorboards, he’d taken note that asking about the killings meant Komaeda probably thought they were still somewhere in the killing game. Hinata knew he had to choose his words carefully—a part of him wanted to keep Komaeda under that illusion as long as possible.

Now that he knew where Hinata was, he had no doubt Komaeda would take advantage of any opportunity he could get to come tell him his thoughts on Reserve Course inferiority. If Komaeda were to find out that technically, Hinata had been a failed Ultimate Hope…no, he didn’t want to imagine what would happen then.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.

            “Ah…I remember being in the funhouse…we were all going to starve to death! I must have passed out, because I don’t remember how we all left…” Komaeda tapped his fingers on his chin thoughtfully.

            This didn’t really tell Hinata what he needed to know. What he was really interested in was whether or not Komaeda remembered reading the files in the Final Dead Room, which would tell Hinata a lot about his true motivations. He didn’t know how to ask that indirectly, though, and he doubted he’d end up trusting Komaeda’s answer if he asked him point blank.

            “Is there anything else you remember?” Hinata asked.

            “Hmmm…well, I woke up in my cottage—I was very confused! My door was locked, but someone had built this little door that food was pushed through a few times a day. It kind of reminded me of when I was tied up after the first trial because it wasn’t very good food, to be honest, Hinata-kun. Somebody kept giving me rice, and I really hate rice. I really doubt _everyone_ forgot that I hated rice. Is that really so hard to remember?” Komaeda grimaced; Hinata sighed.

            “I don’t care how the food was. What I’d really like to know is how you got out—how you’d get the key?” He’d been speaking to Komaeda for about ten minutes and was already beyond exasperated.

“Mmm, even I could understand that food was being pushed in by a _person_ , Hinata-kun. Who was that? They were wearing a black suit and definitely weren’t a participant in the killing game.”

Hinata had no idea how to explain this, either. “Um…well, we all woke up in our cottages, like you, and eventually we were all let out by people in suits, like, uh, you were. They seemed to be working for Monokuma, so since then we’ve been keeping our distance. We don’t know any more than you do…I guess they must have forgotten to let you out…”

“Hmm…” said Komaeda, smiling. “If that’s what you say, Hinata-kun, then I’ll believe you—for now. After all, I understand the impulse to keep someone like me in the dark. It’ll be all the more fun to figure out how I can best help all of you through this new situation!”

 _Well, it’s not like I expected him to believe that…_ Komaeda was apparently used to be lied to at this point, and if Hinata could use that to his advantage, he would. _But that still doesn’t explain what he did to get the key…_

“So the person giving you food didn’t tell you anything about what’s going on, either?”

“Nope—not anything useful, anyways!”

… _Nothing useful? What does that mean?_ “Hey, what do you—“

Komaeda cut him off before he could finish his question: “Ah, I was also wondering why no one took me up on my offer in the Funhouse! Did you guys eat someone else instead?”

“Huh? What does that even mean?” Hinata mentally logged away the key question for later.

“Don’t you remember? I offered to be food for everyone else, but I guess nobody took me up on my offer— _oh, wait…unless_ …”

Komaeda’s eyes widened, looking down at his synthetic hand, and then narrowed in anger. “Would you care to tell me who ate my hand, Hinata-kun?”  
  
            Hinata wondered if he should just go along with it—after all, this would be a much easier explanation than telling him what had really happened to it. He could feel Komaeda getting angry, though— _why would you offer to let everyone eat you if you’re just going to get mad when someone actually does it?_

It was probably best to tread lightly. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

            “I firmly believe that person should be the next victim,” he responded, voice shaking. “They absolutely _disgust_ me.”

            “Look, Komaeda, you offered—“

            “I offered to have all of you eat _my whole body_ —not just my _hand_ \---“

Hinata watched Komaeda begin to wrap his arms around himself.

“If your will to live is strong enough to resort to eating something as disgusting as myself, _go all the way!_ Let my body be of use! Don’t allow base hurdles like cannibalism and regard for a life as insignificant as mine stop you! And— _and—_ if you’re so _weak_ as to be stopped so easily, then _hurry up and die so those who still carry hope in their hearts can put your body to good use!_ Like I wish you guys would’ve done to mine—“

Hinata wasn’t sure what it was—a human impulse to comfort, or the growing fear in his chest, maybe both—but he reached out and put one arm around Komaeda’s shaking shoulders.

He stopped speaking immediately, startled— _scared_ —by the contact, and made a little high pitched noise that resembled a squeak. “…Why did you do that, Hinata-kun? That…kind of scared me”, said Komaeda, staring at Hinata’s hand resting on his shoulder, his arms still wrapped tight around himself.  

Hinata bitterly choked back a laugh—Komaeda was apparently more afraid of someone comforting him than being cannibalized.

“Nobody else is dead. It’s okay.” Hinata hesitated, but decided since he was already lying his ass off here, he might as well tell him what he wanted to hear: “the Ultimates all worked together and found a way out, despite the fact that we were all starving.” He scratched his head.  “You passed out and missed Monokuma’s tai chi thing, so you lost an arm as punishment…yeah.” It was yet another terrible lie, and Hinata knew it, but it was all he could come up with, and technically Komaeda had no way to prove him wrong.

None of it seemed to matter, though—when Hinata made eye contact with Komaeda for the first time since they’d entered his cottage, this time he saw no traces of doubt. All he could see was complete admiration, devotion; desperate and overwhelming.

That sort of sheer intensity unsettled him.  He never knew what the appropriate thing to do was when Komaeda went off into his own little world; if there was even any way to pull him back out.

 _I probably went too far with the whole Ultimates working together thing…_ He’d just wanted to say something to make Komaeda happy, considering how bleak the reality of their situation was.

_…Is that it? Do I really want to protect him from it? From all the horrible things he’s done?_

Hinata wasn’t sure why he cared so much, considering one of those horrible things was an attempt at his life.  
  
            “I knew you all could do it. _I knew hope would win out in the end._ I just KNEW, if you all combined your wills and talent and persevered towards your goal, there was _no way_ the Ultimates could lose to something as insignificant as despair. You even carried me out with you…me… _someone like me…”_ He was starting to get a strange, giddy smile on his face that Hinata remembered all too well; he could feel Komaeda’s shoulders start to shake.

            “Hey, Komaeda, it’s fine…please, uh, I mean, I would’ve—we would’ve—carried anyone out…I mean, otherwise we’d be responsible for murdering you, and nobody wanted that…” Hinata said, really hoping he could shut this down before it escalated any further. He hated when Komaeda got like this—it made him think of the first trial. Hinata had foolishly thought they could be good friends; that he had finally found someone he could trust—he couldn’t believe that he could be so wrong about someone’s true motivations.

            Komaeda had told him about the dementia slowly eating its way through his brain, about the plane crash and the kidnapping and the dead parents and the luck cycle. All of this had lit a spark—no, a bright and burning flame of madness inside him that Hinata knew he could never put out.

            Even now, Komaeda obviously wasn’t really listening to him. He was muttering words of both disdain for himself and complete adoration for others, of hope and despair, of things Hinata could never bring himself to understand, no matter how hard he tried.

            He remembered the last time he’d seen the expression Komaeda had on his face now—flames ablaze behind him; harsh, raspy, bitter laugher echoing through the burning, ruined lobby of Hotel Mirai.

            Thinking of the “bombs” he had planted made Hinata automatically conjure up a different image: Komaeda’s corpse impaled on a gigantic spear, painted bright with blood and decorated with self inflicted knife wounds.

            And yet here he was, very much alive, eyes clouded and dark, mumbling bleak nothings about cannibalism and how honored he was to have been treated like a basic human being. Which, Komaeda was—a human being—despite all of his proclamations of being trash or useless or unimportant or a stepping stone for those who could never, would never even try to understand him.

            Hinata really, really wished he’d just be quiet.

            Komaeda HAD flinched when he’d put one arm around him…what would happen if he put two?

            “I mean, I’m very very happy my arm did get cut off, because that means my bad luck must have worked in your favor! You guys got out alive, and that had to take so much good luck that something terrible HAD to happen to me in order to—H-Hinata-kun, what a-are you DOING?” Komaeda cut himself off mid-ramble as Hajime wrapped both arms around his torso and leaned gently against his body.

Komaeda had both hands in the air like he was in a shootout with the police and he was trying to convince them he was unarmed, while Hinata tried to ignore the bright, warm feeling in his chest over the fact that this had actually worked.

They stayed frozen like this for a few seconds before Hinata answered his question. “I’m hugging you…I guess,” Hinata said, cringing as he spoke. _Why do I have to explain hugs?_

 “…oh,” Komaeda said quietly. He still had his hands in the air. “Why?”  


Hinata could feel his face reddening as his mind grasped for some sort of tangible answer and came up with nothing. _This…probably wasn’t a good idea._

He could feel how tense his muscles were, how uncomfortable he was. Regardless, he was afraid that if he did let go, Komaeda would take that as his cue to start speaking again and he didn’t really want that, either.

“Could you…maybe just lower your arms? I mean…I’m not going to hurt you or anything…”

Komaeda laughed; his ribs shook. “I’m not worried about that at all! On the off chance you did want to hurt me, I think you’d find that I’d be completely compliant!”  


“Then what are you doing…?”

“Ah…” Komaeda fidgeted a little in Hinata’s grasp. He lowered his arms, encircled them around him, but they weren’t actually _touching_ him—there was a good five inches between Komaeda and himself.

There was something extremely exasperating about all of this to Hinata, and he just decided to _act—_ he reached out and grabbed one of Komaeda’s arms by the wrist, pulling it down to his side. “Just…do that. It’s not hard.”

Komaeda tentatively moved his other arm down against him. “Is this what I’m supposed to be doing?” he asked.

His arm was barely touching Hinata at all, but he supposed this was slightly less awkward than before. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

There were a few seconds in which Hinata achieved his goal of blessed silence--he felt almost _comfortable_ just feeling Komaeda inhaling and exhaling, his head gently rising and falling with each breath.

However, Hinata knew Komaeda’s capacity for being quiet was limited, so it was only matter of time before—

“Hinata-kun, how…long are we supposed to stay like this?”  
  
            “Oh…” Hinata could feel his cheeks flaming up, wasn’t sure what had made him think this was the right thing to do in the first place.

 _I_ _hadn’t considered if Komaeda even wanted me to hug him._ He pulled away, moved as far away as the couch would allow.

 “I’m sorry…that…you…uh….I mean …” His thoughts felt jumbled and incoherent, had felt that way ever since he made the decision to open the door.

When he managed to drag his gaze away from his shoes, Hinata looked up to see Komaeda looking at him with wide eyes. There was some sort of emotion swirling within them, an emotion that gave Hinata a completely different feeling than the darkness he had seen earlier.

“Don’t misunderstand, Hinata-kun!” He sounded desperate. “I wasn’t saying that it was a problem! I was…”

 Komaeda broke eye contact and looked downwards. “I was getting sort of nervous; I’d never really hugged anyone before—well, not that I can remember! So…I was…afraid if we stayed like that for too long, I’d probably start sweating, and I’m pretty sure that’s not part of a good hug, so I just wanted to make being that close to someone so disgusting…a little less disgusting, I guess!” He laughed nervously while running his hand through his permanently unkempt hair, only to get one of his fingers caught in a white tendril of tangles. It took Komaeda several seconds to get it out again, wincing as he pulled his finger through.

_How does he brush his hair? DOES he brush his hair?_

Hinata sighed. He hated this part of Komaeda, too—the part that couldn’t stand to offend anyone “lower than him”. It led to nothing but dishonesty as Komaeda tried to cover up whatever he was actually feeling. “Look, Komaeda, you don’t have to make up lies to make me feel better, it’s fine. You said you had more questions, right?”

Komaeda waved his hands wildly in the air.

“No, no, that can wait! I’m definitely more focused on you, now, Hinata-kun! Ah, people tend to get the wrong idea when I speak, especially when I’m all worked up like this…I don’t really know what to say to make you believe me, I may just make things more unclear…hmm…”

He tapped his fingers against his leg erratically.

 “What do YOU think I can do to make it up to you…Hinata-kun?”

Hinata was certain it had never once been a good thing when Komaeda decided to focus on him. He was pretty sure the only way left to salvage this incredibly embarrassing situation was try to distract Komaeda as best as he could, and get him locked up and back to his own room as soon as possible.

“It’s fine. Really, I mean it. My feelings…aren’t hurt or anything…uh, it’s really late, y’know?” Hinata stood up. “I can answer whatever questions you have tomorrow…I’ll walk you back to your cottage if you want…”

Komaeda stood up as well, but made no moves towards the door. He stared at him, tilting his head slightly. “Really? Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It’s definitely what I want,” said Hinata, taking a step backwards. “Like I said, we can talk more tomorrow.”

“Mmm…you didn’t answer my question from earlier, Hinata-kun. I think I want a response before I leave.” Komaeda was staring at him; had a soft smile playing around his lips.  
  
            _I don’t like this._ “You asked a lot of questions…which one?” he asked.  
  
            “I asked you why you hugged me, and you didn’t say anything. I think…I’d like an answer to that.” He was still smiling, it made Hinata uneasy.  
  
            “Well…” _I can’t answer a question that I don’t even know the answer to._ He decided to go the harsh route. “What you were saying was getting…weird, and I wanted you to be quiet, if you want me to be honest.”  
  
            Komaeda’s perpetual smile evolved into a grin, and then into a full-blown laugh. “Really, Hinata-kun? Do you hug all your friends when you want them to be quiet? Is that what you do?”

This situation wasn’t funny, none of this was funny. Hinata didn’t like feeling like he was being laughed at.”No. Only you, because you don’t listen to what other people want from you. You just do whatever you want, going on about whatever you want, not caring if everyone around you is uncomfortable.”

Komaeda laughed again; nearly turned it into a cackle. “Hinata-kun, was that supposed to be defiant? We _are_ just talking about a hug, you know.” He took a step forward, threatened to close the space between them. He lowered his voice to a whisper: “If you really want to make feel bad, I know you can do better than that…Hinata-kun.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad!” It amazed Hinata how easy it was for Komaeda to completely miss the point of a conversation. “I’m pretty sure I answered your question, so…could you just leave?”

He watched Komaeda take another step towards him; could feel he was losing control of the situation.

 _Yeah, well, I knew he wouldn’t make this easy._  


Another step. “Hey, if you’re not going to leave, can you…not get any closer?” The way Komaeda was looking at him was ticking Hinata off as much as hearing him laugh did. There was condescension and mirth in his gaze—it reminded him a bit of how Komaeda had looked at him after he’d learned Hinata was a Reserve Course student—yet it just _felt_ different. Whatever vibe Komaeda was giving off now, he couldn’t quite pin it down and that unnerved him.

He was still smiling.

 “Sure, Hinata-kun, I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, taking another step that definitely wasn’t towards the door as he spoke.

They were about an arm’s width apart now. Hinata didn’t really understand why, but he felt embarrassed; could feel his face heating up. He backed up a few steps, felt his back hit the wall.

He tried to look at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but at Komaeda, but his eyes kept migrating upwards--Komaeda was just _staring_ at him, eyes flickering to observe every small movement Hinata made. There was condescension there, yes, but there was _curiosity_ and admiration and warmth and an intensity Hinata definitely wasn’t enjoying.

 “If you’ll do whatever I want, why aren’t you leaving?”

“Is that _really_ what you want, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda sighed. “That’s rather boring, you know.”

“Yes, Komaeda, that’s what I really want.” _It IS._

Another step, and Hinata had left himself nowhere to go. Komaeda was far too close to him, if he swung his hand even a bit, it would hit his.

“Say it again, then,” Komaeda was whispering again, soft and rasping. “Say, stop, Komaeda.”

Hinata opened his mouth to speak, managed a barely-there “I…don’t...” but ultimately closed it again—the words wouldn’t come—there was some feeling he couldn’t name clenching around his heart, making it hard to speak, to breathe. It kind of hurt but maybe he _liked it_ , the sharp twinges of adrenaline bouncing around in his veins _—_

“Say it….tell me I’m trash and unworthy to even be in your presence and you didn’t want me here in the first place and you only let me in because you didn’t want to be responsible for me dying of frostbite, of course! Tell me I have to go _right now_ or else you’ll do horrible, _terrible_ things to me and make me regret even coming to see you at all,” Komaeda said, sounding much too excited about Hinata doing horrible, terrible things to him.

He could feel Komaeda’s breath on his face. “You’re not…really…those things…”

Komaeda laughed again, soft and low, and Hinata could feel soft stabs of anger amongst his heart pounding. If he was being honest, he HAD imagined situations like this before.

The notion had wormed its way into his brain more times than he’d like to admit—at first he’d always felt a little rush at imagining something like _that,_ something forbidden, but no matter what he’d imagined he would always see the slight mocking look Komaeda was currently wearing on his stupid, aggravating face. Hinata knew Komaeda was someone who noticed the little things people did (or didn’t do), probably so he could use them to his advantage later if it suited him.

There was no way he hadn’t noticed the times Hinata had stared for seconds too long at the way his collarbones pressed against thin skin; there was no way he hadn’t noticed when Hinata thought about how sensitive that area must be, how it would feel to run his tongue across those ridges—the way he’d look away and blush before those thoughts swallowed him whole.

He knew. Hinata really did bank on the fact that Komaeda couldn’t read his mind, but he’d definitely noticed. That’s how Hinata had been certain he’d be looking down at him like this, like he’d _won._

Komaeda was too close to him, had been too close to him, apparently wanted Hinata to do horrible, _terrible_ things to him—Hinata knew his face was hot, his entire body was, was sure he was blushing. He knew his breath was already coming in short, quick bursts as his heart felt like it was going through a meat crusher, _pathetic,_ and here was Komaeda, smirking down at him, with absolutely no traces of pink on his cheeks.

Sheer _arrogance_.

Hinata decided that, just this once, he wanted to see Komaeda blush.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Hinata asked, looking Komaeda straight on for the first time since he’d entered his cottage, attempting to ignore the fact that his own train of thought had gotten him half hard.

“Hmm?” Komaeda made a small noise of uncertainty--eyes lighting up at Hinata’s voice breaking the silence regardless.

“You said you wanted me to do…” – _stop faltering, Hinata, damn it!—_ “…um, horrible, terrible things to you. Is that what you want?” He still hadn’t broken eye contact with Komaeda, which he felt pretty proud of.  


Komaeda laughed. “Are you sure you know what those things might be, Hinata-kun? Is someone like you capable of imagining horrible, terrible things?”

Hinata watched as his hand reached out, felt his fingers grab the hem of his shirt, pulling gently, pushing him flush against Komaeda’s body. Hinata felt a stab of panic when he realized Komaeda could probably _feel_ him like this, but that concern was replaced with a hotter, LOUDER feeling when he realized Komaeda was in a similar predicament. Hinata idly wondered what he had been thinking about.

“If you’re confused, Hinata-kun, I can show you what I mean,” he said, head tilted, returning Hinata’s gaze. “…if you don’t have enough imagination to figure it out on your own, anyway.”   


            “I’m not confused.” Hinata lowered his voice to match Komaeda’s raspy whisper, watching Komaeda’s smile grow as he did. He grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him forward; closing whatever minimal space was left between them. Hinata could feel Komaeda’s breath on his lips.

            Gathering his wits, Hinata moved slightly forward, not quite _kissing_ Komaeda, more just letting his lips only just move over his, barely even touching. He heard Komaeda sigh softly, felt as he tried to move forward for _more_ , and Hinata snapped back, not giving it to him.

            He moved back enough to look at Komaeda’s face. He was biting his lip, looking at least mildly frustrated.

“That wasn’t really _horrible_ , Hinata-kun, but it was pretty annoying... _“_ He trailed off as Hinata pushed his hand up under the hem of Komaeda’s shirt, running his hand halfway up his chest. He felt cold.

            Hinata moved his hand over his heart, felt it beating fast, probably as fast as his own. He’d sort of glossed over the fact that if Komaeda was instigating this, he _wanted_ it, and therefore, in a way, was just as vulnerable as Hinata was. This thought reassured him, made him more confident.

            He moved his hand down, around to the small of Komaeda’s back. Hinata reached up, tangling his other hand into Komaeda’s hair, watching his eyes widen as he did.

            Hinata decided this was probably a good time to _do_ something (and even though he’d never admit it, he himself was getting so hard that it was starting to hurt), so he pushed himself upwards slightly and finally let their lips touch.

           It wasn’t like Hinata had any idea what he was doing, but he didn’t want to let Komaeda know that. He decided to try his best to just _let go,_ to let the frustration and desperation and the beaten-back longing and even a little bit of the sadness, the hurt that was involved with having any sort of feelings towards someone like Komaeda come through in his kiss. He didn’t really know to convey that sort of emotion in physical touch, could feel doubts creeping into his mind—but then Hinata heard Komaeda hum softly, felt him kiss back, hard, felt him lick his lower lip and Hinata felt himself opening his mouth for him and before long that was all he could think about.

            It was hard to pull away, (plus Hinata had his doubts about his ability to get his fingers out of Komaeda’s hair at all), but that growing _need_ he had felt earlier was poking and prodding at him, urging him to go farther. They were right up against each other, but that wasn’t enough—Hinata needed to be closer to him, needed to know what Komaeda’s skin felt like pressed up against his own.

            Komaeda, breathing heavily (much to his satisfaction) seemed to agree. As soon as he pulled away, Hinata felt cool hands under his shirt, running over his ribs, palms flat against his sides. He raised his arms and let Komaeda pull it off, nearly wincing as the soothing coldness of his touch momentarily left Hinata’s burning hot skin.

            “That wasn’t terrible at all, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said, placing his hands back on Hinata’s chest, sliding them upward as he spoke. “Actually, I didn’t mind that one bit!” He looped his arms around Hinata’s neck. “But, ah, personally, I wouldn’t risk that again…”  
            “What…does that mean?” Hinata said, feeling lightheaded. His brain seemed unable to form coherent thoughts other than feelings of _want_ , and that definitely wasn’t a good way to start this off.  
           

“Hmm…I don’t think that really matters right now…”

            “Then why did you bring it up?!” Hinata asked. Komaeda just smiled, looking perfectly calm, composed again.

_Wow, great job of tipping the scales, Hinata._

Regardless, he had made Komaeda lose it for a moment, and the sheer _satisfaction_ that gave him felt as addicting as a drug. Hinata wanted more—he wanted to watch him sweat bullets, wanted to watch him get on his knees and beg for his touch.

He glanced over Komaeda’s shoulder to the only other piece of furniture in his cabin. There was something cathartic about imagining Komaeda, face pressed into the bed, panting, moaning his name—and then imagining him waking up a week later, only to remember that a talentless Reserve Course student had made him feel that way.

But what if he never remembered? In a situation like this, anything was possible. Would he keep coming back? Would he just keep pressing Komaeda’s face into his bed night after night? 

_Hmm._

“So… is that the best you can do?” Komaeda asked, arms still draped around his neck. “I mean…is that really what you think I deserve?” He grinned. “You’re really too nice, Hinata-kun. People take advantage of that, you know.”

“I know. Trust me, I’m not that nice.” He shrugged Komaeda’s arms off his shoulders.  
            “Or…could it be…?” Komaeda gasped, eyes widening in mock surprise. “Oh, wow, if you’re not confused…and you’re not going on easy on me…by process of elimination, are you _scared_ , Hinata-kun? Is that it? Are you scared of letting go? Hey, Hinata-kun, are you a virg—ahh, ow, that kind of hurts—“ Hinata grabbed a fistful of Komaeda’s hair and dragged him across the room, pulling roughly downward, forcing him onto the bed.

He was done hesitating—Hinata climbed on top of him, keeping his grip on Komaeda’s hair, and slid his other hand down to his belt, not quite letting his fingers touch anything lower. “You want me to touch you, right?”  
  
            Komaeda laughed nervously, looking off to the side. “You can do whatever you want to me, Hinata-kun, I already said that…”  
            Hinata yanked his hair back once, hard. Komaeda grimaced and bit his lip in a failed attempt to stop himself from whimpering. _He tooootally gets off on this stuff._

            “That’s not what I asked. I want you to answer me when I ask you questions. I asked what YOU wanted: do you want me to touch you?”

            “Ah…I think I’ve offended you, Hinata-kun, by asking if you were a shy, scared little virgin…I mean, in my defense, you were acting like a blushing maiden, as pure as the winter snow, so…“

            Hinata decided he definitely had a kink for not letting Komaeda finish sentences, particularly ones in which he compared him to a “blushing maiden”. He realized he had both an opportunity to indulge in this and fulfill one of his many secret fantasies in one go, so he leaned down, moved Komaeda’s hair out of the way, and kissed his neck once before running his tongue across the right half of his collarbone.

Komaeda stopped talking, just like Hinata knew he would, and by the time he had gotten to sucking not-so-gently on the bony ridge right next to his throat, he could hear Komaeda panting and that was just so _satisfying._  

When Hinata was pretty sure he’d left a bruise, he looked back up at Komaeda-- _who, yes, finally, was blushing_ —and pushed his forehead right up against his, not wanting to give him a chance to calm down.

He moved his hand back down to the waistband of Komaeda’s pants, tapping his fingers impatiently on the belt. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“I…uh…Hinata-kun, I…” Komaeda was stuttering, moving around underneath him---but Hinata felt when his hips twitched slightly upward against his touch, felt the way Komaeda himself was straining for more, despite his verbal hesitation.

Hinata mentally threw together everything he knew about Komaeda and considered the fact that his inferiority complex might not let him ask for another person to touch him. He was probably out of his comfort zone—which was exactly where Hinata wanted him—but he realized Komaeda would probably be grateful if he made some inferences about the situation on his own.  

He finally moved his hand down to where he was pretty sure Komaeda wanted it, barely touching him, but that alone was enough to get him to stop moving, his body going rigid. Komaeda squeezed his eyes shut, a soft groan escaping his lips. Hinata felt him push himself into his palm, compensating for the pressure he wasn’t applying.

_Wow, Komaeda’s really easy._

Or maybe it was because he’d been having some secret fantasies of his own?

Hinata wished he could push that thought away the instant it formed, but his mind quickly fixated on what potential debauchery went on in Komaeda’s fantasies. He thought about what finally made Komaeda blush—he’d had no shame at all when he’d been in control of the situation, antagonizing Hinata until he took action. _That_ seemed to be what pushed him over the edge, really—Hinata asserting himself, acting without asking.

            In truth, Hinata rather enjoyed a submissive Komaeda writhing, stammering underneath him, too. “Hey,” he said, moving his hand back to his side.

Komaeda opened his eyes, looked up at him, and sighed. “I was rather enjoying that, you know, Hinata-kun.”

“I’m sure you were. Turn over.” As he spoke, he worked on pulling Komaeda’s shirt over his head.

Komaeda raised his arms for him, and once his shirt was off, Hinata undid his belt buckle and slid his jeans off while he was at it. When he was done, Komaeda rolled over and did as he said without complaint.

Hinata got on top of him, lying straight against his body. He bent down and ran his tongue down the back of Komaeda’s neck, stopping when his mouth met the start of his spine. Hinata kissed him there once, and then nipped at his skin, using his teeth to lightly pull it away from the bone. He felt himself grin with satisfaction when he let it snap back and he heard Komaeda’s frustrated whimper, muffled through the sheets.

Hinata got up and straddled himself over the small of Komaeda’s back, running his hands back and forth over his shoulder blades, kneading his hands against pale skin as he went.

He listened to the heavy breathing coming from underneath him as he kept at it, felt Komaeda trying to grind against the bed to alleviate some of the tension. Hinata dug his nails into his back, leaving little pink crescent shaped indents. “No…I don’t think I want you to do that.”

Komaeda moaned into the mattress. “…At least, let me do something to you, Hinata-kun…let me help you…” He tried to turn over, but Hinata refused to budge—he was significantly stronger than him. When force proved futile, he resumed his plea: “…it hurts, right, Hinata-kun? I can feel you twitching, you know. I can definitely make that ache go away--you don’t even have to do anything to me! I’ll make sure it feels good, I promi—“

Hinata pushed his head back down into the sheet, cutting him off. He didn’t doubt Komaeda could make him feel good—he found himself extremely curious as to what he had in mind—but Hinata liked the track this was on, he had an urge to see how far he could push him. “I think I’d enjoy taking care of that myself, thanks.”

            Hinata pulled his legs off to the side, quickly sliding off his pants. Once he was done, he laid back down against Komaeda’s body, pressing himself into him wherever he could.

Hinata rolled his hips forward against him--found himself _shuddering_ with sheer relief at the sharp twinges of pleasure shooting through his body. It was slightly dulled by the underwear still between them, but in a way Hinata was grateful--Komaeda hadn’t been wrong, he was painfully hard at this point—he knew this wouldn’t take long.

In truth, whenever he thought about Komaeda, it never did.

It didn’t help that as Hinata kept moving his hips, he could hear soft, involuntary moans coming from underneath him, throaty and desperate, mingling with the sounds he himself was making. He knew that if he was going to stay in control he should probably tell Komaeda to be quiet, but he really, _really_ didn’t want him to be. In fact, he wanted to hear more—he wanted to know what would happen if he caught Komaeda off guard, gave him the same relief he was feeling now.

That curiosity drove Hinata to slide his hand in-between the mattress and Komaeda’s lower half as he kept grinding against him, moving his hand around until he found what he wanted.

Komaeda gave a sharp gasp underneath him, trembling through a moaned “H-Hinata-kun…” that made Hinata’s heart clench. He paused, nuzzling the back of his neck before continuing, coarse white hairs tickling his forehead.

Hinata could feel himself getting close—his breath was hitching, heat pooling in his abdomen—so he skipped palming Komaeda and pushed his hand into the waistband of his (sort of cute) checked boxers, gripping him tightly. Komaeda immediately reacted, jolting upwards just as Hinata was pushing into him, causing even more friction.  Hinata bit down on his lip, stifling a deep groan. _No, this won’t take long at all._

As Hinata stroked him, he could feel Komaeda’s thighs shaking, heard his moans grow louder, interjected with occasional breathy murmurs of Hinata’s name. He realized he really did have a lot of control over Komaeda when he had him like this, realized how much he loved that.

Hinata was sure, on a technical level, he wasn’t doing a _good_ job—he had no idea how to go about touching someone else and he was pretty distracted with getting himself off. None of this seemed to matter to Komaeda at all, Hinata was pretty sure he already had him close to finishing regardless. Something about the sheer power involved with bringing someone so close to orgasm with so little effort was _really fucking hot to him_ , let alone that this was Komaeda.

Komaeda, who had laughed and insulted and demeaned Hinata, who had made it a personal goal to make him feel like he was nothing—Komaeda, who was currently shamelessly moaning the same name he had spat on, eyes half lidded, face bright pink like a…like a _blushing maiden._

When Komaeda’s back arched upwards, pressing hard against him, Hinata gasped and fell over the edge, pressing his mouth into his neck, trying to (unsuccessfully) muffle his own sounds. 

When Komaeda sighed deeply and finally stopped shaking, Hinata knew they were both done. He rolled off onto the sheets, mentally burning the image of the sweating, panting, sticky, blushing maiden beside him permanently into his memory.

He was kind of glad Komaeda hadn’t had the opportunity to watch him during whatever this had been. Hinata wondered how disheveled he looked. _I probably look...really gross._ He ran a hand against his now sticky boxers, recoiling at how cold and wet they felt. _…Ew._

He glanced over at Komaeda, who apparently was watching him. “You know, I would’ve been more than happy to clean that up for you—if you hadn’t been so…ah…pushy.” His eyes lit up. “Wait! I can probably still clean it up for you, if I really give it some effort! It’ll probably take a long time, and might not be that effective, but I think I want to give it a try!”

Hinata was very sure this was some sort of delirious joke, so he groaned and ignored him—until he realized he’d drastically underestimated how weird Komaeda could get: he was actually leaning over towards him, looking very focused and enthusiastic about…whatever he was about to attempt to do.

“No, no—“ Hinata placed his clean hand firmly on his chest and pushed him back down. “No. That’s…really fucking weird, Komaeda, and probably not possible, so just…stay there, and I’ll get us both new clothes and towels, okay?” He dragged himself off the bed, making for his dresser.

Komaeda frowned. “I assure you, it’s definitely possible! But…” He tapped his fingers on his chin, smiled. “There’s a lot of appeal in wearing a pair of Hinata-kun’s boxers, too…”

 

 

 

 

Hinata stared up at the canopy above his bed, wondering how exactly Komaeda had gone from comatose to imprisoned to beside him in his bed in just a matter of days, taking those last two steps in a matter of minutes. _It’s kind of…impressive._

Neither of them were asleep, but after they’d changed, Hinata hadn’t asked Komaeda to leave, and Komaeda didn’t really seem to have any plans to go, so they’d ended up like this, side by side, tucked under a blanket with neither one of them really speaking. Hinata thought this sort of silence—while this sort of thing normally made him a little uncomfortable—with Komaeda was almost…pleasant. Relaxing, even, maybe.

“Hinata-kun, I have a question,” came Komaeda’s voice from beside him.

 _Of course you do._ Hinata wondered if he should just opt to ignore him—the last thing he wanted to do was to answer any questions about what had just happened between them. The nightmarish possibilities were endless: _Hinata-kun, why did you bite me so many times? Hinata-kun, are you always this gay or is this just for me? Hinata-kun, I never got an answer on that virgin question, inquiring minds want to know._

“Hinata-kun…”

“Yeah, yeah, just get it over with, god…” He buried his face in his pillow, deciding suffocation was a pretty decent emergency eject button.

“Hinata-kun, why do all of your boxers have the exact same pattern?” Komaeda raised the blanket he was under, analyzing the pair Hinata had given him. “Do you have some sort of obsession with blue flowers…?”

 _…Oh._ He blushed. “T--there was a sale, okay?!? It’s not like…I’m partial to blue flowers or anything…”

“Oh! Hinata-kun, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about! All of mine are white and grey plaid—there wasn’t a sale, but I do find that pattern to be particularly lucky! I was just curious, because I thought it was funny that we have the same underwear fixation!” Komaeda patted Hinata’s head, which was pushed as far into the pillow as it could go. “And, also, I was wondering…ah, if you’re not particularly partial to this pattern…can I keep the pair you gave me? Because you have so many, it probably won’t be missed! I’ll even give you one of mine in return as a way to thank you, I promise.”

“No…Komaeda, I don’t want your underwear…” Hinata raised his head. “Look…I guess…you can keep them…I don’t really have a reason why you can’t…”

Hinata was more than ready to put an end to this night, his mind desperately needed a reset—there were too many half formed thoughts in his head, each battling for his attention. One of these thoughts was the nagging notion that he had forgotten to ask Komaeda something, something important, but the question wouldn’t come. His body felt heavy. _Please let me sleep…_

“You look tired, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda said quietly.

“I am tired. Aren’t you?”

“Mmm, actually, no! I’m pretty nocturnal…and I’m very happy right now, and I don’t want to lose that feeling! I have no idea when my luck will take it away, you know!” He laughed. “I want…to try to keep this warm feeling as long as I can, I think.” Komaeda turned up towards the ceiling, smiling softly. “I’ll probably stay up for a while. You can go to sleep, though, Hinata-kun! I’ll make sure nobody makes you the next victim!”  


Hinata felt a dull pang in his chest amongst all the sleepiness—eventually, someone would have to tell Komaeda that he’d lied to him, whether he remembered the entirety of what had happened or not. Regardless, that was a worry for another day, another time—tonight, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was happy. Tired, but content.

“Goodnight, Komaeda.”

“Goodnight, Hinata-kun!”

Hinata rolled over and closed his eyes, letting the soft sounds of Komaeda’s breathing lull him to sleep. _Komaeda…I get what you mean. I think I want this feeling to last, too._

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first fic--I've never felt inspired to get this into a pairing before I played Danganronpa--so any comments would be doubly appreciated!  
> Archive warnings will abound next chapter so be forewarned, but I'm super excited to write it!
> 
> I reside on the internet here-- www.bullet-refutation.tumblr.com  
> I love making new friends so feel free to come say hi! n_n


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